A. Homes - Music for Torching

"Is there really a stupidity clause?" Elaine asks.

"No," he says, closing his folder. "But here's a good example: I once had a guy whose pipes froze, and he went to unfreeze them with a blowtorch and burned the whole house down. It was an accident, stupidity. He didn't do it on purpose-that's the way it goes. Nice to meet you," the agent says, shaking their hands.

"Great meeting you," Paul says buoyantly.

Elaine smiles.

Paul turns to Elaine, beaming. "We're covered under the stupidity clause. I'm so relieved."

Sammy plays with both walkie-talkies. "What are you wearing?" he asks one walkie-talkie.

"Who is this?" he asks the other.

"It's me," he says. "Do you have your shoes and socks on? Are you ready to go?" "Who is me? Do I know you?" he asks.

So relieved.

In the front yard Elaine and Paul have a fierce, whispering fight. "I'm in a good mood," Paul hisses. "I want to take you out to dinner. I want us to have an hour alone. Why do you have to ruin it? Why do you ruin everything?"

"He had an attack, Paul," Elaine hisses back. "He was in the house playing a video game. I was upstairs, I thought I heard him laughing, but he wasn't laughing, he was wheezing, he was wheezing horribly."

"But he's all right now," Paul says.

Elaine shakes her head. She hates Paul for putting her in this position, for making her choose, for being so fucking selfish.

"Roger," Sammy says into walkie-talkie number one.

"Hey, I'm not Roger," he says into walkie-talkie number two.

"If you're not Roger, then who am I?"

"I'm starving," Paul says. "Let's just drop him off and grab a bite."

"Fine," she says. "If something horrible happens to him, it's your fault."

"Nothing is going to happen."

"Over and out," Sammy says. "Over. Outer."

They drive Sammy to Nate's. Paul gets out and takes Sammy to the door. They ring the bell. Nate answers. "Oh, it's you," he says and walks away, leaving the door open.

Paul and Sammy step inside. "Hello," Paul calls. "Hello, it's Paul and Sam." They wait uncomfortably in the hall. There are sounds from the kitchen. Paul rubs Sammy's back. "Are you okay? Do you have your medicine in case you need it?"

Sammy nods.

"Mommy and I are only a phone call away."

Paul debates whether to go in farther, whether to look for Susan. He wonders if Gerald is home.

"Oooooo, ick pot," Nate shouts, running past them, through the house, and up the stairs.

Sammy sighs deeply.

"You'll be all right," Paul says. "Hello? Anybody home?" He wanders down the hall. "Susan?"

She steps out of the kitchen. "I didn't hear the door. I was grinding nuts."

He smiles-they had a lovely conversation earlier this afternoon, everything is good. They have a date for Friday-she has arranged for someone else, some other mother, to pick up the kids after soccer. She will be his Mrs. Apple, from four-thirty to six-thirty. "I'm just dropping Sammy," he says.

"Hi, Sam," she says, giving him a special little smile. "How are you today? It was a beautiful day, wasn't it?"

Sammy doesn't answer.

Paul pats his chest and mimes wheezing.

"Are you better now?" Susan asks. "Are you hungry? I made wieners for dinner. You like wieners, don't you?"

"He has his inhaler in case there's trouble."

She squeezes Paul's shoulder, kneading him. "How many puffs?"

"Two."

"See you tomorrow," Paul says, getting down on his knees, giving Sammy a big squeeze. "Be a good boy."

"Did you give her the inhaler?" Elaine asks as soon as he's back in the car.

"Sammy's got it."

"Well, you should have given it to her. Does she know how to use it?"

"She knows everything," Paul says, pulling out of the driveway.

At the Chinese restaurant, Paul is sweet, he is loving and attentive. He holds open the door for Elaine, pulls her chair out, and then tucks her in. He is acting like a gentleman, as if he wants to please her, as if pleasing her gives him pleasure. But she is in a foul mood. Elaine is the anchor to reality, the unrelenting reminder that all is not well. The happier Paul seems, the more pleased he is, the fouler she becomes. "Why do you have to ruin everything?" she hears the echo of his asking.

She looks at Paul-Paul is beaming. Why?

Is Paul happy because he has something horrible to tell her? Maybe he's going to tell her that he's having an affair-she's convinced he's having one. Maybe he's leaving. Maybe he's so damned happy because he finally found a way out.

"Am I supposed to pretend that everything is fine?" Elaine asks. "Am I supposed to ignore things?"

"Not ignore," Paul says. "But if you noticed less-if everything didn't mean so terrifically much-things would be better."

"That's all it takes?" Elaine asks.

"It's a start."

The waitress comes. "What can I get you folks this evening?"

"Oh," Elaine says, "we're not ready yet, we haven't even looked."

They open their menus. Elaine thinks of Pat. Will Pat be angry that they went out for dinner-that Elaine didn't call until the last minute?

"You pick," Paul says. "Get whatever you want. No kids. No rules. No limits."

He is thinking of Mrs. Apple, of the date, of Elaine. With Mrs. Apple he has the fantasy of himself as the caring husband, the good father-she doesn't burden him with details about money, about what needs to be fixed, about where they're going for summer vacation. With the date he has adventure-tomor row she has promised something that will "change him forever." And with Elaine he has all the rest. In his mind they are not three different women but continuations of one woman. A giant breast. On some profound level, he can't imagine that it would be a problem, that anyone would mind. He's aware there's a flaw in his thinking, an immaturity that tells him what he does is excusable. His behavior-his constant need for comfort-makes sense to him, therefore it should make sense to others-to Elaine. In Paul's mind Elaine is like a mother-required to accept him completely no matter what he does; she can never get too fed up, she can never leave. And in his mind Elaine is always annoyed with him for not doing what he should. And Paul is always mad at Elaine, hating her for making him feel that he's failed.

"Did ya figure it out?" the waitress asks.

Paul looks at Elaine, helpless.

"Soft-Shell Crabs in Garlic Sauce," Elaine says. "Ginger Chicken. Brown Rice."

"Sounds great," Paul says, closing the menu, beaming.

"Your smile is making me nervous," Elaine says.

"I'm just so relieved," he says. "I didn't realize how worried I was. I'm so happy about the insurance. It's like getting a prize even though we don't deserve it. Maybe God is giving us this, to teach us a lesson-not everything has to be a negative experience. Maybe the point is, you can lose your head and not completely ruin your life."